/lit/ - Literature

Dear Mr. Stafford

"This all could have been avoided..." is what you're probably thinking to yourself. You have failed in your own exploits, and now as you're laying around depressed and in defeat, you wonder if you can even call them your own. So why did you do it? What prompted you to take the plunge? You've been mulling over it for as long as you can remember --- thinking "If only I could accomplish what I've set out for!" You longed for the opportunity, and then when you had it, you fucked up. I guess it isn't so bad, is it? There are hundreds of millions who will take your place in the struggle. But this thought doesn't occur to you, because your endeavors were never that kind of selfless, ideal pursuit to begin with. Think of it this way, even if your big moment's gone and there's nothing left you can do to change your fate, it was either this graceless failure or gracelessly expiring in your comfortable little hole. Neither are anything to be proud of, but I'm sure each has its merits. Or maybe not. But you'll never know, anyway. You should contemplate the best course of action for your next attempt, as morbid as that seems.

Your friend,
Eugene